


Night terrors

by hanhanhan156



Series: Tales from the Stadium Tour [2]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: And some humor of course, And some nice Paulchard fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Lots of multilingual swearing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Self judgement, Stadium Tour 2019, but still, fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 18:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanhanhan156/pseuds/hanhanhan156
Summary: Only two months to the start of their biggest tour ever, and everyone is understandably being exhausted as hell. Nobody hasn't said or done anything to it before their lead guitarist cracks and threatens to quit the whole band.Luckily, Paul is there for him.





	Night terrors

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo. ~
> 
> My stadium tour stories continue! Once again, it's just my headcanons, no means to offend anybody. I'm just playing around the characters.  
This time there's a bit of angst, but in the end I promise it's gonna be fine.
> 
> Thank you for everyone who read and liked the first fic, it means a world to me. <3
> 
> EDIT May 2020  
In case someone is still reading this, I had to break the promise with myself and proofread this. :'D 2020 me couldn't stand the mistakes and clumsy overuse of "really" anymore.

Being a world-famous band, some days tended to be the best ever, while some were being the absolute worst. Today, evidently, the latter - at least for their lead guitarist.

“_So ein Misthaufen _ !!! Fuck this lousy band and fuck this even _ lousier _ tour!!!” Richard yelled after another string from his guitar broke in the middle of the song. He usually treated his precious instrument like a woman he adored, but at this stage of upset, he almost threw it to the brick wall. “I said in the first place that this stadium tour was the dumbest idea we’ve ever had. It’s gonna be just a fucking farce the whole thing, I tell you!”

The guitarist rushed demonstratively towards the door turning to his fellow band members the last time before exiting the room. “I’m gonna leave this whole _ Scheisse _, so have a nice tour without me!!!”

Schneider, confused and annoyed from the strange situation, stood up behind his drum kit. He had to interrupt this somehow. “C’mon Reesh, we’ve had way worse moments before. What the hell are you talking about quitting now? Should we cancel all the sold-out stadium shows then, huh? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s been just a bad day, it’s unnecessary to act like that!” He didn’t think they had played _ so _ poorly – hell, back in the days, they’d even performed to full festival audiences, completely wasted, and with all of their instruments being out of tune.

“Hire a fucking substitute, it’s your problem now. I don’t care anymore! So verpiss dich!!” Richard snorted and showed the rudest hand sign known in the western culture to his band members before slamming the door and disappearing from their practice.

Stiff atmosphere landed the room. The question marks inside the other band members’ heads were almost visible. 

_ What on earth was that? _

Flake stared at his keyboard without saying anything. He loathed drama and usually when that occurred, he wanted to discuss and settle things with diplomacy rather than with yelling and swearing. He had to admit he was sometimes a bit frightened of the melodramatic attitude their lead guitarist had. Flake knew Richard was emotionally unstable - mostly, because of his neglecting family and other difficulties he had encountered throughout his life, so it was definitely understandable - but still, he was never prepared for the drama. He would have wanted to help the poor man but didn’t know, how.

In the other corner, Ollie was playing some random bass riff without an amplifier. He tried to keep himself busy and hide his disorientation as well. 

Schneider was in a shock and handled it with never-ending gabbing. “What the fuck was that why he had to be so mean? He should definitely learn some manners, he can’t say things like that or show us the middle finger, like he would be the boss. We are all adults, for god’s sake…” He inhaled and continued, a notable concern in his voice: “Where did that thing about quitting come from? Right now, just two months before Gelsenkirchen? I don’t understand, why is he being such an asshole…”

“That’s enough,” Till interrupted their drummer’s rambling and cleared his throat. “Yes, he was being an ass towards us, but we shouldn’t judge him still. As you said Schneider, we are all adults, so let’s act like ones, even though Reesh didn’t. We all have our bad moments, and bad days, but we’ll still stick together, right?”

Paul was sitting legs crossed in the middle of the stage, listening to the discussion - or it seemed more like an argument now. To be honest, he wouldn’t have wanted to participate anyhow to this, but he didn’t want anyone to be upset though. Richard had once said that their band’s relationship was like a marriage, so despite all the uncomfortable things happening, he still felt responsible for their band members - especially Richard, who he cared deeply.

“I agree with you that he’s been like a bear shot in the ass lately, but still, we shouldn’t hate him. There must be an explanation to all of this,” Paul said and turned towards their singer, desperation in his voice. “Till, what should we do now?”

The singer just shrugged.

Schneider, still annoyed, carried on his ranting: “So what could help then, huh? Should we let the diva continue being an ass towards us? What if he was serious about quitting, what are we gonna do then? Cancel all the shows, get real jobs? Guys, I’m definitely not accepting this. Not at all. We shouldn’t always go his way.”

There was a brief silence in the tight atmosphere before Till gestured Paul outside the rehearsal room. “Can I have a word with you, privately?”

The puzzled guitarist nodded and followed.

“Have you noticed anything… unusual in Reesh’s behavior recently?” Till asked when they were just the two of them.

Paul was thinking for a while what to answer. “Yes. When I think about it, he’s been even more annoying than usual.” He tried to ease the tight atmosphere, but Till still looked dead serious, so he clarified: “Or, I mean, he gets annoyed even about the smallest things nowadays. Sometimes, I don’t dare to say anything to him because everything seems to upset him more. He also looks exhausted and doesn’t have the energy he usually has. He seems like… he’s not being himself anymore.”

“Exactly,” Till answered. He was happy to hear Paul had noticed the same things as him.

“Do you have any idea, what might it be? You’ve known each other quite a long time so has he been like that before?”

“A couple of times, yes. You know he’s being sometimes unnecessarily dramatic, but I think this time, he has a reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you have to admit that we - especially I - sounded like a vulture’s diarrhea ass today. You know how perfectionist Reesh is, so it made him even more distressed, and now he must think that our band is total bullshit in general.”

“I agree we weren’t at our best, but of course we’ve had bad days before and always managed still. I just don’t understand what made him crack like that now.”

Till stared at the wall, avoiding Paul’s eyes when he said: “I think he is mostly annoyed to himself rather than to us. He is clearly in huge stress about this tour, about the news songs, about every single damn detail you can imagine. I can see he’s not being his lively self, as you mentioned before. He tries to control everything too much and now, just two months before the tour should start, he has realized it’s impossible to handle everything with a way he’d want to.”

Paul didn’t know what to think. In his opinion, the stadium tour had been a good idea, something new and exciting for them. They’d had so much fun while creating their crazy-ass performance and the good old creative vibes had been around them. It felt amazing to play together once again, and like a cherry on top, it had lit that inner fire Paul had missed for a long time. He was also thrilled to perform the new songs - despite they didn’t have any clue yet, would the audience even like them, he was happy to play something new besides the old classics to which he was a bit fed up with. To be honest, he was even relieved when they had deleted Feuer Frei from the setlist - even though it was a popular song, musically Paul thought it was one of their worst.

But, of course, when speaking of this kind of massive tour, everything doesn’t always go as expected. Paul didn’t mind it so much and he liked the idea of having room for some improvisation and surprises. The most important thing was that they and their audience enjoyed themselves. Besides, you’d always learn from failures and you could laugh at them later. He didn’t quite understand why Richard had to be so concerned about everything.

One thing his fellow guitarist had said before worried him the most. “Do you think he was serious with this ‘I quit’ bullshit?”

Till looked uneasy as well. “I don’t know. He is pretty unpredictable, to be honest.”

“Then, what should we do? You know him the best, so should you go to talk to him?”

“Not me.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t listen to me. It might make him feel even worse. If he sees me, he probably just wants to smack me in the face.”

“So, what’s the solution then? Should we just let him be?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not once or twice he has ended up doing something stupid in a bad mood.”

After a brief silent moment, Till looked Paul, almost like a begging dog. “Can you go to talk to him? I think you are the only chance we have now.”

The guitarist gave a laugh. “Me? What the hell, I’m not a professional psychologist. Besides, you know him way better than me.”

“It doesn’t matter, who knows him the best. Have you happened to notice the way he looks at you, listens to everything you say? He clearly adores you, so I think you should do it. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll figure out something else.”

_ Oh, mein Gott. _ “But what am I supposed to say? I… I’m not good at this kind of stuff. What if I make him feel even worse?”

“Just improvise,” Till said, and patted Paul’s shoulder, trying to make him relax. Instead, the other man gulped notably loud. A huge responsibility was on his shoulders now.

_ What the hell did I just promise? _

~***~

Finding their angsty little teenager ended up being easy: Paul just had to follow the thick fog hovering in the corridor. _ Seriously, he should cut down that smoking. _

In no time, Richard was hearing a knock on his door. _ Verdammt. _

“For fuck’s sake, lass mich Ruh!”

“Sorry to interrupt, but can I come in?”

Hearing Paul’s voice cooled Richard down a tiny bit. At first, he’d been completely sure it was Till who came to interrupt his own peace. Now he was so surprised that he couldn’t even reply anything to the other guitarist’s question. The other part of him wanted to welcome Paul in, hug him as tight as he could and weep all of his sorrows to the other man, while the other part just wanted to pout alone and act like nothing was wrong.

When Paul didn’t hear anything, he decided to take a risk and come in even without permission. At least, there wasn’t that childish swearing anymore.

“You know very well we all agreed earlier that we are not smoking inside,” he said, trying not to sound too judgemental. He knew Richard was an eternal rebel, but still, he should at least try to obey the rules they had set together.

Even though Paul didn’t mean it, Richard took the other man’s comment as an insult. “Oh, I didn’t know that my stepfather has taken a form of Paul suddenly.” Even a thought of that horrible family member sent shivers down Richard’s spine.

Paul sighed. “You know very well that I didn’t _ mean _ to sound like him, just that some of the tour staff told us that they might get a terrible headache from cigarette smoke. We don’t want anyone to get sick at this point. You are not a teenager anymore, so you should start respecting others’ opinions as well.”

Just to annoy Paul more, his fellow band member lighted up another cigarette even though the first one wasn’t finished yet. Richard didn’t even bother to give a glance to the other man like he would have been just thin air to him.

“Hallooo Mister, I’m talking to you now!” Paul shouted, waving his hands at the same time in front of the cocky man.

But still, Richard just continued smoking, without saying anything.

Paul tried to think of what to do. Sensible talking clearly didn’t work now so he had to make up another kind of tactic.

_ Okay, you asked for this, you damn teenage diva. _

Without any prior warning, Paul sat on Richard’s lap, dumped the precious cigarette to one of the many beer cans on the floor, and turned the other man’s head, forcing him to look straight into his eyes.

“Do I finally have your attention, Herr Kruspe?” Paul asked, in a provoked tone. If this wouldn’t work, he would suggest to the guys that maybe they should hire a new lead guitarist after all.

But, to Paul’s surprise, despite his earlier arrogant acting, Richard’s face didn’t look as aggressive as he had sounded. Instead, his eyes were glossy. The sight sent a wave of empathy inside Paul and now he started getting concerned instead of being annoyed. _ Okay, this must be something serious now. _

“Reesh, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Richard answered, turning his eyes from the other man’s inquisitive, yet sympathetic, gaze. _ I am not a fucking baby, so don’t you dare to pity me like that. _

But resiliently, Paul continued: “It’s clearly ‘nothing’ when you are almost crying.”

Richard didn’t like it when Paul had to see him in this weak state. “You shouldn’t have come here. I bet that Till sent you.”

“It doesn’t matter who sent me and why. I am seriously worried about you. In fact, we all are.”

Richard didn’t say anything, he just stared at the table in front of them even though it was difficult when the other man was sitting on his lap, being so freaking close. But to be honest, in any other situation, the other man’s proximity would have felt pleasant. Right now though, he was so distressed that it was difficult to concentrate on anything.

“Reesh, honestly, we all are under huge stress because of the upcoming concerts and stuff, but how you are acting and threatening to leave us, are far from normal. Please, tell me, what is concerning you,” Paul begged.

There was once again a silent moment. For a while Paul thought this was a lost cause - maybe Richard didn’t want to tell him anything and would rather stay alone. This was probably a stupid idea in the end. _ Damn you Till and your “just improvise”. _

But, just before Paul thought about leaving the other man’s lap, Richard broke the eerie silence with a huge sigh. “Y-you are correct, I am actually in huge stress.”

Now Paul’s attention arose again. _ Maybe this isn’t a lost cause after all. _ “Do you want to clarify what do you mean with ‘a huge stress’? You know very well that I’m not a telepath, so I can’t enter your thoughts if you are not telling me, what’s going on.”

“I’m just so fucking scared of… all of this,” the other man managed to say, with a trembling voice. He desperately tried to fight back tears - it was too embarrassing to cry when somebody was witnessing. Richard was so used to keep his tough mask and now when it was falling off, he felt suddenly so helpless.

“Scared of what exactly?”

“Of everything… about this new tour and… stuff.”

Without getting a clarifying answer, Paul tried to keep on asking. “We all can see you are not being yourself. Can I ask you, have you even slept or eaten properly? Cigarettes and coffee are not considered as food.”

There was no point to lie or hide anymore, so whatever Paul was asking, Richard had to answer. _ Shit. _ “Well, a couple of hours now and then.”

“How much did you sleep last night for example?”

“Well, actually I… umm… didn’t sleep. And when I think about it, maybe I didn’t eat anything either. I can’t remember. My head is being a bit fuzzy because there’s so much going on.”

“Holy hell, did you know that at our age we should care about our health even more! That’s not gonna end up well if you continue that kind of lifestyle. We are not young anymore, our motor doesn’t run with only drugs and alcohol!”

“Seriously, why do you have to sound like some fucking nurse now.” Of course, Richard knew very well that what he was doing wasn’t really healthy, but he couldn’t help it.

“It doesn’t matter how I sound, the most important thing is _ you _ now. But could you tell me, why haven’t you slept? Is there something bothering you?”

Richard nodded and bit his lower lip. _ Fuck it, maybe I just have to tell him. _ “I can’t sleep because… because… I’ve had so horrible nightmares lately that I’m actually… afraid of falling asleep. It’s easier to stay up as long as I can.”

“Do you want to tell me what kind of nightmares?” Paul knew that he started to sound like a psychologist, but he was so concerned that he didn’t care about it right now.

They’d been sitting on the couch for a while and Richard had been trying to avoid Paul’s physical and mental proximity as best as he could. But, as he started to open up, he had a sudden urge to seek attention from his friend. To Paul’s complete - yet, pleasant - surprise, without a warning, Richard grabbed him tightly and started to pour out, sobbing desperately at the same time: “I’ve… had of course nightmares before, but… not as vivid as these… i… it’s so fucking disturbing…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of now, I’m with you,” Paul tried to calm his friend down, stroking his hair gently. “What is happening in your nightmares?”

Richard cleared his throat and started to mumble to Paul’s shoulder: “It begins… pretty normally. We are having a gig, everything goes well, and we are having fun, even though… I’m a bit dizzy when I see the huge audience. Seriously, it seems like there are millions of people there. Just staring at us. And I feel a nasty twitch in my stomach when I think about how they are… judging us, especially me.”

“You know in our concerts, most of the people are probably so wasted that they don’t even remember anything. They don’t care how you sound or look, they are just having a party of their lives,” Paul said, trying to ease the other man’s horror.

But Richard didn’t hear what Paul was saying, he just kept continuing: “Then, we are doing the boat thing… I always thought it was a bad idea. You know what happened to Flake earlier.”

“And you know that Till has said you a thousand times that you don’t have to do it if you are afraid.”

“But… I don’t want to be… a coward.”

“You’re definitely far from being a coward.”

_ I wish I would believe that also. _ Richard gulped and continued to describe his terrible dream: “Everything is pretty ok and I see you are doing fine while you are boating through the audience - in fact, you seem to enjoy yourselves with Schneider, shaking hands with the people and stuff… I’m jealous to you when you manage to remain so calm.

When it’s finally my turn to step in, I feel like I have to throw up. When I look at all the people, they resemble an enormous pack of greedy wolves, ready to tear me alive. It’s fucking terrifying...

Then, I manage to go with the boat for a while, and when I’m finally convinced it’s gonna be alright, suddenly something happens… I fall down and hit my head. I nearly pass out and try to shout for help, but… nobody’s listening. Instead, the audience - looking like fucking werewolves with their huge red eyes - is tearing me apart, kicking and hitting me in the face so hard it’s impossible to breathe. I’m coughing blood and spitting out pieces of my teeth. At the same time, those animals are shouting… pretty nasty stuff to me.”

Paul noticed as the story carried on, his breathing was getting shallow and his hands, still caressing his friend’s hair, were shaking. Yet, he tried to remain as calm as possible because he wanted Richard to tell him all, despite how horrible it would be. “What kind of… stuff?”

“They are calling me…” In this part, it was difficult for Paul to get what Richard was saying because his voice was trembling so much. Still, he tried his best to listen. “…a numb, a complete failure and that I have just failed through my life. That all I have achieved so far is a fucking farce… that nobody cares about me and… I would be better off dead. Some of those freaking werewolves even have the judging voice of my stepfather. He always thought that I’m nothing, I’m just a total loser. After all of these years, his words… still haunt me.”

“Reesh, that’s so horrible… I’m so sorry to hear.” Paul wasn’t sure, what kind of words were the most suitable in this kind of situation. For Richard though, he wasn’t hoping to hear the right words, he was just so relieved when somebody was listening to him - and he was even more relieved when that person was Paul.

Richard parted from their embrace, now looking straight into the other man’s eyes. His grey eyes were filled with pure horror and self-judgment. “But the worst part is just coming up.”

“Do you… do you want to tell it to me?”

Richard squeezed his friend’s shoulders so tight it hurt, but it didn’t matter.

“Reesh, please tell me. Everything is ok now, I’m here for you…”

So, the horrifying story continued. “In the end, the audience disappears and I’m relieved when I see all of you approaching me. I raise my hands, begging for your help, but you… just continue doing the same terrible things as the audience… Till points and laughs at me… that laugh is still echoing in my head… The rest of you behind him start to mock me. I also hear somebody of you saying that “thank god you are finally getting rid of me” because you all hate me so much.

And in the end, the rest of the guys, except for you, leave the scene. You stare at me, looking so curious - like a scientist glaring at his guinea pig - and so unusually… cold. I’m drained and exhausted, still hoping that at least you would help me. But, in the end… you come close to me and whisper to my ear…” Richard’s voice suddenly broke and he couldn’t breathe properly anymore.

Paul’s whole body was on goosebumps, but still, he wanted Richard to continue. “What… is it I whisper to you?”

The other man answered with his eyes closed: “You whisper to me that… ’you fucking piece of shit… du bist ein _ Scheitern’…” _

“…A failure? Why would I ever call you that? That’s… so fucking horrible… I’m so sorry… I would never call you with that horrendous word…”

“And you keep repeating it over and over until I’m begging you to stop, but you just continue…”

“Holy motherfucking hell, you should know that I would never, ever say anything like that to you…”

“And in the end, you spit on me and disappear, laughing with a voice so cruel it… still hurts me to even think about it… I’d want to cry, but I can’t. I just lay on the dirty ground, alone, torn in the pieces mentally and physically.”

Paul was completely shocked, squeezing the other man tightly. “Holy shit… why am I acting like that in your dreams… I certainly hope that you are not thinking I would ever do something like that to you. Not in this lifetime. Not me, Till, Flake, Ollie, or Schneider. We all love and support you and we’ll stick together, whatever happens. The audience can be shit sometimes, but we’ll always be there for you - for each other.”

Richard was crying to Paul’s shoulder, this time without even bothering to hide his awful feelings. Even though it was horrible to say out loud all these things that had bothered him for so long, it felt like a catharsis to finally speak about those horrors.

Richard parted from Paul’s embrace to blow his nose. “Es tut mir wirklich leid… how embarrassing, an adult man weeping like this.”

“Hey, there’s definitely no need to apologize.”

“Yes, there is. I was an ass towards all of you today. I don’t know why I said all those cruel things… I’m just somehow so shocked and horrified about everything…”

“Well, all the guys were quite confused about the scene you created, but they will definitely understand and accept your apology. These are hard times for all of us, you are not alone.”

Richard wasn’t convinced, so he continued: “Why am I so weak, why do I have to show my emotions like this… you all seem to be so happy about this new tour so why am I acting like this…”

“We all are afraid, of course. I’m as well and sometimes, it’s difficult for me to sleep, even though you know pretty well how good I’m at napping.”

Richard gave a dry laugh through his tears. “Yes, I definitely remember that lousy night after a gig in Mexico City, in that even lousier motel bunk we had to share. You were snoring so loud, and it was so freaking hot next to you, I couldn’t sleep a second.”

Paul grinned. It was a good sign that Richard was joking, so he could be distracted from all the terrible things they had just discussed. “To be honest, I don’t even remember anything from that night.” They both made a sound so weird that it was difficult to tell whether they were laughing or crying. It warmed up Paul’s heart to see his friend smiling, at least a tiny bit.

“But yeah, coming back to our Stadium Tour, it’s gonna be a huge thing for us. A challenge and an enormous step forward. I’m excited and _ yes _, so afraid at the same time. But also, I am willing to just jump into the crazy rollercoaster - to see where it will lead us. And I’m completely sure that in the end, we will succeed and be even a bigger band we already are.”

“But how are you able to manage with all the fears and concerns? You seem so calm while I feel like I’m breaking into pieces even though the tour hasn’t even started yet.”

“I think the biggest reason I manage is that I know that I’m not alone. Whatever happens, we’ll stick together. We can, and we actually are bound, to ask for help - you should remember that as well. We don’t have to act like we are stronger than we are - we are, in the end, just a bunch of normal guys. Not some superheroes.”

Richard sighed. “I wish I could be like that as well. This freaking perfectionism is killing me.”

Paul understood what Richard meant. His friend was definitely that kind of a person, who’d be concerned if 1 person out of 100 didn’t like him, and he’d remember that single negative feedback for the rest of his life, even though there were 99 people worshipping him.

“Reesh, let me tell you something.”

There was a puzzled gaze in the other man’s eyes when Paul turned him to look at him again. “I just want you to know that you are an amazing person and a talented musician. Honestly, you are fucking amazing at anything you do. And if there happens to be someone who doesn’t like you, it’s his problem.”

Richard was blinking his eyes, confused from all of this. Still, after all these years, he wasn’t used to compliments. It felt a bit similar when passionate fans came to him, praising him from head to toe. “Now you must be just flattering me.”

Paul looked at him with a serious gaze. “Everything I said before is true, it’s not just some lame flattering. You deserve so much more positive things. I said it because I lo…” He cleared his throat and continued, feeling a rush of warmth on his cheeks at the same time: “I… umm, adore you very much.”

“Thank… you.” Richard was completely dumbfounded by the sweet words.

The two men were still embracing each other. Richard felt like his legs were getting a bit numb from Paul’s weight, but it didn’t matter. His whole body had calmed down, and he was safe enough with his friend to fall asleep.

His dreamy state was interrupted though when the other man asked: “Just one last thing. Were you serious with that ‘I quit’ stuff?”

Richard smiled. “Maybe I admit that I overreacted a bit. Of course, I’m not quitting, because I don’t want to get rid of any of you. Especially from you, Paul. I enjoy irritating you way too much.”

Hearing that felt like a heavy load finally dropped from Paul’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful to hear.” Then he came closer and whispered to Richard’s ear: “And you are definitely not getting rid of me. Never in this lifetime.”

They both chuckled and Richard went back to his sweet, dreamy state. His eyelids weighed like lead and slowly, he was dragged into the miraculous world of his unconscious mind.

Suddenly, Paul said, like from the distance, even though he was still close: “We all should relax.”

“…but I thought we have a tight schedule,” the other, drowsy man, mumbled.

“Yes, but it doesn’t help if we forcefully continue, exhausted and drained. We’d be too tired when the actual tour starts. We should take a tiny break.”

There was complete silence and Paul could only hear Richard’s calm, rhythmic breathing. “Are you sleeping under me?” he asked, pressing a couple of light kisses on the other man’s forehead.

“…maybe… does it matter?”

Paul gave a laugh. “Not at all, just that it might be a bit uncomfortable position.” He finally stood up and immediately, Richard positioned himself to the sofa more comfortable so he could take a nap. Paul handed him a blanket and sat next to him, caressing him still.

“I actually got an idea what we could do.”

“…huh?” was all that Richard was able to answer from the edge of consciousness.

“I’ll tell you later. Now, just get some sleep, _ mein Liebling _.”

~***~

“Wonderful to hear that he’s now resting,” Till said while they were walking towards the little kebab kiosk nearby the rehearsal place. Even though Till tried to maintain a healthy lifestyle, Paul’s idea of getting some junk food and watching a crappy movie from Ollie’s endless B film -collection, was an excellent idea. It was no use to do anything meaningful anymore today and they all needed something else to think about than the tour. It had been long time since they did something else together than music-related stuff.

There was still one question bothering the singer. “But I’m curious, how did you manage to calm him down when he was so upset earlier?”

“Well, I had my own ways,” Paul said, grinning himself.

“You two clearly have something special going on.”

With a dreamy look in his eyes, fixed to the red sky, Paul whispered so quietly Till could barely hear it: “…_ vielleicht _…”


End file.
